Howlpack of Tokyo
by EosphorosWriting
Summary: I'm on a werewolf kick, guys. And a Fussa kick. So… Yeah. Fussa/Mizho eventually. Please review. Rated M for possible future chapters, both gory and special couple scenes. Hoping to come up with a better title soon. Suggestions are welcome.
1. Ulvenwald

Chapter one; Ulvenwald

_The Ulvenwald* makes no allowances for youth. Today's newborn is either tomorrow's hunter or tomorrow's lunch._

"I think we've walked long enough, Fussa." Rage stopped, looking around at the slowly darkening woods, "_I _can't hear the city anymore."

Fussa nodded and stopped, too. He turned to face Rage, pulling off his sunglasses. His eyes had been changing for the last week and had gone from a deep hazel to a piercing gold. Now, without the distracting scratches and smudges on his sunglasses—that he had long since given up on ever cleaning off—every detail of the forest came into sharp focus. He took a deep breath and sighed. Rage might not be able to hear the city, but Fussa could _smell _it. He silently thanked his lucky stars that the wolf hated the smell. Personally, he wasn't too fond of it either. He untied his jacket from around his shoulders, stuck his sunglasses in one of the pockets, and handed it to Rage.

A sudden question from the wrath doji as he took the jacket caught him off guard, "Can I watch you change?"

Fussa stopped in the middle of unbuttoning his shirt and looked at Rage, "Why?"

"I'm curious. I want to see what happens." He shrugged, "It's not like you can kill me."

Fussa groaned, "No. It's…kinda private." He growled, pulling off his shirt and throwing it to the ground. He looked back at Rage and sighed, "But you're gonna find a way to watch anyways, aren't you?" Rage nodded, "Fine! You can fucking watch." The exclamation was more snarl than shout. He kicked off his shoes and glared at the moon as it rose.

Rage smiled a little and jumped up into a tree to watch. He knew better than to be on the ground with the wolf. It couldn't kill him, but an attack would still hurt like hell.

Fussa rolled his shoulders as his muscles rearranged a little and sighed, anticipating the upcoming pain. He groaned as it started on his head, right between his eyes.

Rage sat on the branch, knees to his chest. His eyes widened a little as Fussa suddenly cried out in pain and collapsed to his knees, holding his head. He craned his head out to get a better look, when a scream and a snarl, then the sounds of a fight, ripped through the quiet of the forest. He jerked his head up in the direction of the sounds. A nearby rustle distracted him, and he looked back at Fussa. Gone. Rage cursed under his breath and ran after his master. He burst into a clearing and froze as he took in the sight—hard as it was to wrap his mind around. On one half of the clearing, a fully transformed Fussa was fighting with a green-eyed, blonde werewolf—just the thought of another werewolf in the area shocked him—and on the other, leaned against a large tree, was Mizho, curled up in a ball and bleeding heavily. A few hundred different scenarios ran through his head. He made a swift decision and ran over to Mizho.

"What the fuck happened?" He knelt beside her, but kept his eyes on the fighting wolves.

"H-How the hell should I know? Why the fuck are _you_ here?" Her single eye looked up at him, scared and confused. He sighed heavily and glanced at her before looking up at the wolves again.

"That black wolf? That's Fussa." He nodded at the snarling balls of furry fury across the clearing.

"W-What?" She sat up, wincing in pain, and looked over. She could immediately see the resemblance in the long, poofy fur, "H-Holy shit…" Her vision nearly blacked out from the blood loss, but she managed to stay conscious, thanks to her self-training the last year or so. She looked at Rage and saw him staring at her shoulder wound, "W-What?" The look in the robot's eyes sent fresh fear through her.

"You were…bitten?" The shock from the wounds and the sudden change in worldly knowledge made her have to slowly process this new information. She hesitantly looked down at her bleeding shoulder. The fabric of her shirt was torn away, revealing what was very obviously a bite wound. Her eyes widened and she let out a wail as realization hit her.

*Ulvenwald is a very important thing later on; don't ask about it, the story will explain it later.

Please review! I really like this story, so I want critique, I _want_ the flames! GIVE THEM TO ME!


	2. Sire

Chapter two: Sire*

"_I raised my bow, and the wolf stared at me. Under its gaze, my fingers would not release the string."_

"…" Fussa was silent as he wrapped bandages around Mizho's shoulder. The wound would heal quickly, but if it got infected she was done for. Mizho was just as silent, her single eye fixed on a single point in the room.

Rage sighed as he walked in the room, "It's the morning after the full moon, Fussa. You should be resting, you dumb-fuck." He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms.

Fussa shot him a glare, and then finished bandaging up Mizho, "I'm fine…" He muttered.

Rage rolled his eyes and left, muttering in annoyance.

Mizho bit her lip and looked at Fussa, "If you need to rest, you should…" She mumbled, "You fought pretty hard…"

Fussa shook his head, "It's alright. I'm nearly done, anyways." He secured the bandaging down; then he started to put away the first aid kit. Mizho watched him, still dumbfounded from everything that had happened. Fussa looked over at her, "Which one did it?"

"Huh?" She blinked at him.

He nodded to the dressed wound, "Which one of us bit you?" He leaned against the wall, obviously exhausted, but trying not to show it.

Mizho sighed, "You did. I kept the other from biting me, and then you came up behind me, bit down on my shoulder and flung me back, then started fighting the other wolf." A small realization hit her; had Fussa been protecting her then? She quickly pushed the thought aside. He was probably more concerned about protecting his territory than protecting-or killing-her.

"Damn it." Fussa groaned, "I swore I'd never sire another wolf…" He ran a hand through his messy hair.

"It's not your fault…" Mizho muttered, but Fussa didn't hear her as he walked out of the room tiredly. She glanced up at him, the wounds on his arms and back already had been reduced to fading scars. She heard his lay down on his bed with a groan. She stood up, careful not to stretch her injured shoulder, and walked over to the room, peering in. He was laid face down, one arm off the side of the bed. She smiled gently and leaned against the doorframe on her good shoulder.

Rage came up behind her, "You should probably go home. Fussa'll call you a week before the full moon. I'm sure he'll help you with anything you need during your first week."

She looked back at him and nodded, looking at the now-sleeping Fussa one more time before standing up straight. Rage handed her one of Fussa's large shirts and let her slide it on over her bandages before leading her back home. There, her parents were concerned upon seeing her in someone else's shirt, but when Rage explained to them that she had taken a bad fall and that his producer had found her and patched her up, Mizho went along with his story, adding on that Fussa had insisted on her staying until morning, not wanting her on the streets at night. Knowing Rage as a famous singer, her parents took the lie without a hitch.

Rage sighed as he left the house, heading down the street to go back to Fussa's place. It had taken a bit of effort to avoid getting trapped in a conversation with her dad, as he seemed quite excited to discuss music industry shit. No wonder Mizho always refused Fussa's offers to debut as a singer. That man would not stop talking about it. Three weeks from now was gonna be hell. Fussa was already a gauntlet-full the week before the full moon, but now he had to deal with two werewolves, and one would be new to all of this, "At least Fussa killed that other wolf. That's one less thing to worry about…" But he still groaned to himself and rubbed his forehead just from the thought of having to keep two werewolves from eating raw meat out of the freezer.

Fussa grabbed Mizho's skirt and yanked her down into her seat to stop her restless pacing, "You're making me anxious." He growled at her, "That's not good for either of us."

She whined and squirmed in her seat. Her senses were overloading from the sudden increase in intensity. She could see everything. Her eye flicked back and forth at little specks of dust floating in the air. It settled on the kitchen door that Rage had locked while he cooked. She whimpered and held her head in her hands.

"Don't worry, this living hell'll be over after tonight." He pat her head. She sighed and nodded, biting her lip.

Rage brought out the plates of food after a short while, irritation obvious on his face as he set the plates down, "Try not to fucking scarf it down this time." He grumbled before leaving the room. Mizho tried her best to resist that particular urge, but she still took larger bites than usual. Fussa chuckled at her, but said nothing. He'd had 21 years to hone his self control. She had been a soldier in her past life, so he assumed that that was what was making her already so good at it. He'd half expected to have to lock her in a room for her first week before the full moon. But she was actually using a fork, which was way better than HIS first week.

She pushed back her plate after finishing and curled up on the couch. He chuckled and stood up, "Hey, why don't you and I go out to the woods for a while? I can help you get familier with the place before tonight. We've still got a few hours before moon rise." She looked up at him and nodded, sitting up again.

He grabbed his keys as he stood up. Rage was too busy arguing with his iPod upstairs to even notice them leave.

Fussa drove the pair to the woods, on the outskirts of the city. The sun was still a ways away from the horizon as he parked the car. He pointed to a hiking trail that lead into the woods from the road, "That's where Rage and I go. Normally we just walk until Rage can't hear the city anymore, by then, the trail is non-existant anymore." She looked over and nodded slowly, the sight of the woods making her heart beat fast for some reason. He chuckled and stepped out of the car, "Come on." He waited on her before leading the way up the trail. She couldn't stop looking around, her eye training on every little movement. Fussa glanced back at her and chuckled. He took a deep breath and sighed, "Quit looking around and take a sniff."

She looked at him in confusion, then closed her eyes and took a deep breath through her nose, "Oh, GOD! What is that smell?" Her eyes watered and she clamped her hands over her nose.

Fussa laughed, "As I thought, you've been paying more attention to your sight than your smell. That's the smell of my car." He shuddered a little, "Took me a while to get used to it, too." He smiled at her comical expression.

"It smells digusting!" She shook her head.

He motioned for her to follow, "Come on, the smell will disappear the farther into the woods we go." He kept walking, her following quickly behind him.

Soon she experimented and sniffed again, relieved that the car smell had faded for the most part. A more pleasant, earthy scent hit her nose, and she sniffed around, trying to find the source. She walked a little faster and found it getting stronger. She followed it until she bumped into Fussa from behind. She blinked in confusion and looked up at him.

Fussa glanced back at her and chuckled, "Yes?"

She frowned and sniffed again, realizing that the smell was coming from him, "O-Oh...Sorry."

Fussa smiled, "It's alright. You smell nice, too." He chuckled.

*To sire means to father or create.

Once again, reviews and flames are encouraged!


	3. Alpha

Chapter three; Alpha

"_We who are dominant tend to think of that aspect of being a werewolf as rank: who is obeyed, who is to obey. Dominant and submissive. But it is also who is to protect and who is to be protected."_

Rage sighed heavily as he finally caught up with the two werewolves, "What the HELL do you think you're doing? What if another goddamn slayer had come along? You'd both be DEAD." He growled. On more than one occasion, Rage had protected Fussa from werewolf slayers, killing them before even a single silver bullet was shot.

Fussa rolled his eyes, "If there was a slayer in the area, I would have smelled him in the area and gotten me and Mizho out, okay?"

Rage snorted in disbelief, "You know that they wear that fucking salve that makes them invisible to your nose; don't even try that shit on me." He looked around quickly, scanning for the life signature of a slayer.

Mizho bit her lip, "Anything…?"

Rage rolled his eyes at her, "If I had seen anybody, you'd know." He motioned for Fussa to lead the way further into the woods.

Mizho followed cautiously, eye flicking quickly from tree to tree. Now she knew why Fussa kept Rage around on full moon nights.

"You know the plan, right, Mizho? You and I will change in separate places and let our wolves meet each other on their own terms." Fussa looked at her.

"Right." She nodded, "Because we don't want to shock them by suddenly having them together."

"See you in the morning, then." He nodded to her and ran off in one direction through the woods. Rage nodded to her before following his master.

Mizho groaned to herself before heading off in the other direction, letting her renewed senses lead her through the maze of trees. It wasn't long before she found a little clearing and started to pull off her clothes. Instead of chilling her half-naked body, the cool wind against her bare skin made her feel comfortable, made her feel happy, almost. She smiled up at the moon as it rose. She had read many werewolf stories and decided to see if accepting the werewolf would really make the transformation hurt less, or even not at all. She winced and looked up in shock as she heard Fussa yell in pain somewhere far off. Her resolve to accept the werewolf nearly faded entirely. Surely Fussa had tried before to accept the wolf. She whimpered and looked at the moon again. Seconds later, she felt it coming. A shift in her back muscles, the shift of the bones around her mouth and nose. She took a deep breath and didn't fight it, though it was hard. It wasn't long before she felt something rise up in the back of her mind. Her instincts were kicking into overdrive and she let it. Her eyes open suddenly. Her eye patch was gone, and so her blind eye was exposed. It was still sightless, however. She realized that she wasn't in control of her body as she reared up and sniffed the air. It was in that moment that she realized that she had done it. She had transformed painlessly.

She now understood why Fussa referred to it as 'the wolf'. The wolf was a different entity. She was taking a back seat in her own body as it dipped her head to the ground and sniffed. It leaped forward and started following a scent trail it recognized as prey. Mizho loved the rush of it. Her wolf bounded on top of a rock out crop and looked around.

Panic shot through both of them as she heard a long, deep howl from somewhere nearby. Mizho knew who it was immediately. The wolf did not. It had thought it was alone. But the scent of freshly killed prey hit their nose and away they bounded. Mizho watched as the woods blurred past and felt her paws hit the leaves on the forest floor. She was shocked when the wolf came to an abrupt stop and wondered why until they looked up. On top of another rock outcrop was Fussa. She suddenly felt tiny as she looked at him. His wolf was huge. He had snapped his head around to snarl at the newcomer. Her wolf's ear went flat and her tail tucked between her legs as she lowered submissively to him. Mizho mentally groaned. This was it. She silently hoped that Fussa's wolf would accept hers into his territory. Fussa had assured her that he would, as his wolf would recognize her as a wolf he had sired. Now she wasn't quite as confident.

The black wolf before her snorted and went back to his kill. Her wolf's ears flicked forward and tried to creep closer. Mizho suddenly remembered something from a book Fussa had made her read, and she tried to mentally yell at her wolf, _'No! The alpha eats first!' _She knew that Fussa was the alpha in this situation, and she didn't want her wolf to piss him off. Her wolf hesitated, not quite understanding. Mizho mentally face palmed as she realized it didn't understand English, and instead tried to push the idea of waiting her turn to her wolf. Her wolf whined, but sat on it's haunches to wait.

Fussa's would glance back at her every once in a while, then got up on all fours to walk a ways off before starting to wash the blood off his fur. Her wolf jumped forward to the prey in excitement and started eating quickly. Mizho was lost in the flavors of the prey and didn't notice Fussa's wolf coming back over, sitting on the other side of the kill. When she finished and looked up, her wolf whined and took a paw step back. But the other wolf seemed to just observe her. Her wolf hesitantly started to clean her fur, and when she finished, looked back at the large male. He padded around the kill and reached a human-like hand over and laid it behind her head. She whimpered and closed her eyes, expecting the worst.

A warm and wet feeling swept up the side of her wolfish face. She opened her good eye and stared at the other in confusion as he licked her, cleaning off some blood she had missed. Mizho found this disturbing, but her wolf seemed to relax at this. Mizho figured this was a kind of approval from the older wolf and let the wolf do what she wanted now.

OoOoO

Please review!


	4. Reasoning

Sorry for making you all wait so long!

Chapter 4; Reasoning

_"Why does a dominant exist? To protect those beneath him, but protecting a submissive is far more rewarding, because a submissive will never wait until you are wounded or your back is turned to see if you are truly dominant to him. Submissive wolves can be trusted. And they unite the pack with the goal of keeping them safe and cared for."_

Mizho sighed as she woke up, not opening her eyes yet. Her senses were still heightened, as they would be for the rest of her life, but still not as sharp as they were the week before. She could hear the trees rustle in the warm breeze, the faint sounds of the city, and the calls of birds. Her skin was sticky in places from blood but warm from the morning sun, and the smells around her actually calmed her nerves. There was a warmth beside her and she nuzzled against it. It's scent calmed her even more, as well as the deep, if husky, rhythmic breaths she could hear...

...WAIT. Mizho's eyes snapped open.

Rage couldn't help but laugh out loud as he heard Mizho's shriek echo through the woods. He walked towards the sound, taking his time. He came upon a curious scene; they were under a small rock overhang, Mizho sitting a ways away from Fussa, her back to the man as he rubbed his ears. Despite her being turned away, he could tell she was probably red as a Coke can. He brought Fussa his clothing, then brought Mizho hers, snickering as he did so.

"It isn't funny!" She snapped at him as she snatched her clothes. Rage just laughed harder and turned to Fussa.

"Let me guess, your wolves like each other?"

Fussa sighed, "Seeing as I woke up to her snuggling me while ass naked, yes."

"Zip it, asshole!" Mizho snarled once she was dressed. She stormed off, Fussa groaning and having to catch up.

The trip back was awkward at first, but then they both fell into step, nearly silent as they walked through the woods. Once back, Rage slid into the driver's seat of the car. Mizho sat in the back, and Fussa practically collapsed in the passenger seat. Only a few miles down the road, and both wolves were sound asleep.

Rage set Mizho in the guest bedroom and Fussa in his own bedroom once they were back. He chuckled to himself and went to go make proper food for them when they woke up. Mizho heard him cooking when she woke up, wondering why exactly Rage was so... helpful. He was wrath, after all. She got up and stretched before navigating her way through Fussa's huge apartment to the kitchen.

Rage glanced up at her, "Welcome back from the dead. Have a nice trip?" He snickered.

She rolled her eyes, "Not really." She sighed as he chuckled at her response. She watched him for a moment, then asked, "Why do you do this for him? I thought evil doji were powered by hatred, you especially."

"Wrong!" He sighed, "And let me explain. But first, think about the time you were most angry. And not just miffed, like waking up next to Fussa's naked ass, but really, truely angry. Why were you angry?"

Mizho's mind went straight to when she was still Michel. Her younger days...

"In France. When I was a little boy, only twelve or so, a man killed my mother. Cliché, I know, but it happened. I saw it with my own eyes and I attacked him, trying to get him off of her... I didn't know she was already dead. I was trying to-"

"Protect her." Rage nodded, putting the food on the stove, "To be truely wrathful, you must have something to protect. If something tries to hurt or destroy the thing you protect, you can summon one of the most powerful angers known to mankind." It sounded like he was repeating something he had been told before. Is this was Fussa had taught him? Or a different master?

"One of the most powerful? Is isn't the most powerful, then?"

He shook his head, "No. The most powerful is vengeance. When something destroys the thing you protect. What did you do to that man when you found out he'd killed your mother?"

"I killed him." She snorted.

He nodded, "Exactly. Fussa is the thing I protect. Unlike the others, I'm at my most powerful when my master is dead. Until I get my revenge, even Vice won't get in my way. I can't hurt him, but it would be too much trouble on his part to stop me. Fussa died once already..."He sighed.

"...so you and Fussa are...?"

"What? No!" Rage laughed, "No, no, no, Fussa's more like a brother. Besides, Fussa probably won't ever date another guy ever again. Hell, probably won't ever date again at all." He chuckled.

Mizho raised an eyebrow, "Again?"

Rage glanced out the doorway, "Do you know if Fussa's still asleep?"

Mizho listened for a moment. She could hear him breathing evenly, "Yeah, he is."

"You remember when Fussa said he'd never sire another wolf?"

She nodded.

"His ex was the first. The night he first transformed, he was on his way to a gig with his band. His boyfriend was the lead guitarist. They'd stopped at a hotel for the night, and they shared a room. Fussa changed for the first time. There in the hotel room. His ex managed to escape, but he was bitten. They tried to work it out, but... "

"He broke up with Fussa?"

"Worse. He vanished. No one ever found any sign of him. Everyone thinks he's dead. That's also the reason his band broke up. They lost their guitarist and their lead singer was heartbroken, couldn't sing the same. He's never tried singing again. I think he should, but he won't."

"..." Mizho sighed and scratched her head, "Why are you telling me this?"

"I protect Fussa, he's my master, and he's told me to help you with whatever you needed." He chuckled, "You have, in a sense, come under my protection as well."He shrugged, "Plus, he'd trust you enough to tell you but he never would, the asshat. He's really good at avoiding talking about things."

"Fuck you." Fussa appeared in the doorway.

Rage just stuck his tongue out at him, "Piss off. Both of you, get out. I'm trying to fucking cook." He shooed them out and closed the door.

Mizho expected Fussa to crack a joke, but he was silent as he walked down the hall into another room. Probably a studio. She almost didn't recognize him. His hair was down, just barely reaching his shoulder blades. It was still curly as hell, but not nearly as poofy as he styled it to be. It made him look smaller. So did the fact he wasn't wearing his jacket around his shoulders to make them look broader. He looked less intimidating. She'd never let it affect her, but it still annoyed her since she usually did the intimidating. She chuckled a little and went to the door he disappeared into, leaning against the doorway. She noticed a poster on the wall, an older music poster. And the guy in front looked familiar.

"Aflodite... is that your band?"

"Was. Was my band." He sighed. He was seated at a dark mahogany desk, his back to the poster.

"...which one is him?" She went to stand in front of it.

He glanced at her and chuckled, "The one with the mohawk and freckles." He turned the chair around to watch her, "He could be a bit of an ass sometimes..."

"Is that why you hate your wolf?" She turned to look at him, her single blue eye questioning, "Because you bit him?"

Fussa growled, "I didn't bite him, the wolf did!"

She shook her head, "You could have told it to stop."

"I did! It wouldn't listen!"

"It's an animal. It doesn't understand English."

Fussa shook his head, "You don't understand..."

"You're too fucking stubborn and it's making you hurt every month because of it! I changed last night without it hurting."

Fussa stared wide eyed at her, "You did...?"

"Don't change the subject. I heard you screaming last night. Why do you fight it, anyways? Because you failed to get it under control, you're gonna try and keep it under lock and key even when you know it's impossible?"

Fussa eyed her. She was saying all these things he'd been told by his sire. He was always told he wasn't a natural; That he'd always have a hard time understanding the werewolf's way. Her, however...

"...Mizho, next time you come over, we're going on a trip." He leaned back, "There are some people you need to meet."

"What does that have to do with anything?!" She snarled.

"You need to go home. Rest some more. You're lucky this didn't happen during the school week." He sighed, "I'll tell you more later when I've talked to them personally..."

"She isn't leaving until she's eaten." Rage snapped from the doorway like an irritated mother, holding two plates.


End file.
